Page 152 - A TALE OF TWO CITIES

A Tale of Two Cities

traced, under various disguises of Art, through the portraits
of every Drinking Age.
‘You are a little late, Memory,’ said Stryver.
‘About the usual time; it may be a quarter of an hour

later.’
They went into a dingy room lined with books and
littered with papers, where there was a blazing fire. A
kettle steamed upon the hob, and in the midst of the
wreck of papers a table shone, with plenty of wine upon
it, and brandy, and rum, and sugar, and lemons.
‘You have had your bottle, I perceive, Sydney.’
‘Two to-night, I think. I have been dining with the
day’s client; or seeing him dine—it’s all one!’
‘That was a rare point, Sydney, that you brought to
bear upon the identification. How did you come by it?
When did it strike you?’
‘I thought he was rather a handsome fellow, and I
thought I should have been much the same sort of fellow,
if I had had any luck.’
Mr. Stryver laughed till he shook his precocious
paunch.
‘You and your luck, Sydney! Get to work, get to
work.’

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